


A Different Path

by armouredescort



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armouredescort/pseuds/armouredescort
Summary: Adrian decides to stay with the Belmonts instead of sleeping until Dracula rises again.





	A Different Path

When the castle crumbled, Adrian was left with a choice: lock himself away, or see the world for which he had fought for.

The former, he decided, was a poor choice if Dracula ever resurrected. What better way to be crushed by his father than to make it easier for him to find Adrian disorientated and devoid of allies. There would be no redemption, not now that he had cast the final blow, slain his father on the silvered blade of his sword. If Dracula resurrected, there would be no doubt in his mind as to who had killed him.

Adrian looked to his companions, standing silently on the cliff as the castle groaned and creaked, vanishing in rays of sunlight. Sypha was nursing a broken arm, hiding it in the voluminous sleeves of her robes. Next to her, Trevor's face bled with a broken nose and a sharp gash that lacerated his previous scar at an angle. His hands were slick with blood and sweat, one firmly gripping the handle of his whip and the other around Sypha's waist to support her.

Instead of running away to seal himself up in some tomb, as he had always planned on doing, Adrian touched his companions lightly, Sypha to her shoulder and Trevor to his face.

"I can set those," he said.

Without turning back to watch the empty hilltop for a second longer, Adrian walked his companions to the nearest village, which was empty. Probably one of the first to fall considering how close it was to the castle.

***

The destruction of Dracula's castle had not gone unnoticed, but its truth was forgotten. Only the Belmonts and Adrian knew of what had really happened the night the castle had crumbled from existence.

At first it was hard to ease the worry that this was only a temporary reprieve. Living in one of the many abandoned cottages that dotted the countryside, the three settled to recover. Trevor's wound had to be stitched up and his nose popped back into place, Sypha's arm had to be set, and Adrian needed to hunt. The scent of Belmont blood was fresh and tempting, dripping into Trevor’s collar, with a clarity that was surprising given the amount of alcohol Trevor regularly consumed. Maybe it was hereditary. Maybe the Belmonts weren't entirely human, that their long history of monster hunting had shaped them into something that stood aside from regular humans.

Sypha’s sharp gasp of pain as she flicked her hand to start a fire drew Adrian from his thoughts. He looked around the cottage. Dusty, and smelling of something dead, but it would have to do. It would warm up quickly enough, the logs already set in the fireplace when they had arrived. Adrian pulled out a chair and wiped it clean with the sleeve of his coat.

“Take off your robes and sit down,” Adrian said to Sypha. 

She readily complied, Trevor holding the fabric while she slipped out of them. Standing in her white shift, she looked much smaller than Adrian or Trevor felt her personality suggested. Running his hands over her arm, he confirmed it was only broken in one place, not two, which made the problem much smaller.

Trevor hovered anxiously at Adrian’s shoulder, and the scent of blood was suddenly too distracting, too overwhelming. It was such a beautiful scent, and Adrian turned his head, flinching when he found that Trevor was much closer than he anticipated. He had to go. There was an abundance of saliva in Adrian’s mouth, and he resisted the urge to lick the drying blood off Trevor’s face.

“Trevor, I need you to fetch some water from the well,” said Adrian. “Two buckets to be boiled. And find a good, straight stick or a post, if you would.”

With a worried glance at Sypha and Adrian, Trevor scuttled outside. The air started to clear immediately, Adrian blowing out a breath of relief.

“He frets too much,” said Sypha, gazing at the door.

“He frets for you,” said Adrian. “Do not be so quick to dismiss these small moments with no mask of cockiness.”

“It is a broken arm. I have had one before,” said Sypha.

Adrian touched her arm where it was swelling. The coldness of his hands would help, funnily enough, parched of their heat from hunger and exhaustion. His mother had always found it useful to have cold hands to work with.

“I will make this quick,” Adrian promised.

He pulled the arm, manipulating the bones so they would slide back into place. Sypha screamed, then shoved her fist into her mouth, crying from the shock and the pain. Stopping, Adrian calmly removed her hand, and offered her a spool of twine he’d picked up somewhere in their journey inside the castle. It wasn’t the most ideal of gags, but it would be significantly better than accidentally biting through skin.

Listening to Sypha’s muffled screams was almost worse than hearing them at their full strength. Trying to work fast but also wary of tearing internally, he slid bone past muscle, prodding, stretching, weaving. There was a click, audible only to his heightened senses, and the bone was in place. Hopefully Trevor had found something suitable to splint it. Sypha slumped to rest her head on the dusty table, readily spitting out the spool when Adrian tugged at it.

“You did wonderfully,” said Adrian. “I could not have asked for a better patient.”

He kept his hands on her broken arm, not moving them, but hoping the coldness of his skin would reduce the swelling. Sypha nodded, her eyes still dripping with tears as she whispered, “Thank you.”

The door opened, Trevor returning with the water and a variety of sticks tucked under his arm.

“I have the water,” he said.

“Good,” said Adrian.

Trevor stood in the doorway, waiting for further instructions.

“What did you want with it?” asked Trevor.

“We will use it to wash up. Eventually. Or to drink, whichever comes first,” said Adrian.

Shifting carefully so that he didn't unnecessarily jostle Sypha’s arm, Adrian turned so that he could better see Trevor’s face. The dark expression, with those eyebrows furrowed low, did not bode well.

“Why did you ask me to get the water if you didn't need it? I could have stayed,” said Trevor.

“Because you needed to do something where I couldn't smell your blood,” said Adrian. “You gathered the sticks, and your face is a mess.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Trevor.

Trevor wiped at the blood from his face, the colour close to black in the dim light of the cottage and dropping off in flakes. He rubbed it between his fingers, examining it. One of his sticks slipped from under his arm, making a loud bang on the floor. Sypha jerked in surprise, and Adrian held his breath. The bones didn't shift. His mother would have been proud.

“I did not send you outside because I resent you, Trevor. You should know that,” said Adrian. “You and Sypha are my companions, and without you, my father could not have known peace.”

He lifted his hands away from Sypha’s arm. The swelling was going down, thankfully, but it needed to be put in a splint. Sypha made a noise of complaint, and Adrian hummed in sympathy.

“If you hand over the sticks, I can set this while you wash your face,” Adrian said to Trevor.

Later, when the worst of it was done and Sypha was napping in front of the fire (Trevor had made an unpleasant discovery in the bedroom, but at least they knew what the rotting smell was), Adrian turned his attention to Trevor.

The blood, fragrant like the warmth of a hot drink on a winter’s night, called to Adrian. It was tempting to lick it off and let his saliva take care of the rest by healing the wound, but a needle and thread would help immensely.

“You didn’t happen to find a sewing basket in here, did you?” asked Adrian.

“No,” replied Trevor. “I was too busy hauling the half-eaten corpse into the yard and burying it in the vegetable garden.”

Fair point. It had been a disgusting job. The only upside was that Trevor had immediately stripped down to nothing, dumping the rest into a repurposed water trough. Upon doing that, he'd dunked his entire head into a bucket of warm water and cleaned himself as best he could with a rag.

He would have been entirely naked if Adrian hadn't shed his shirt and loaned it to him. Even so the hem only barely brushed mid-thigh whilst standing.

“I'll look in the other room,” said Adrian.

There was fortunately a small box of sturdy needles, one of them being curved and fortunately made of copper. Catgut would have been preferred but a bobbin of cotton would have to do. The stitches would be coming out soon anyway.

Trevor was nodding off in his chair when Adrian returned, exhaustion finally taking him.

“This going to hurt.”

Trevor didn't complain once. The stitches were far from neat, his pale fingers being stained by blood as Adrian deftly stitched him up. Leaning closer and closer, Adrian felt the urge to lick Trevor clean rise again.

A firm hand on his chest stopped him, his tongue an inch away. So close. It smelt so good.

“No thanks,” said Trevor.

“I can heal it.”

“It’s best if you didn't.”

“It's going to scar.”

“It’ll poison you,” said Trevor. “It's a family thing. I didn't believe it until you got that funny look in your eyes, like you were mesmerised.”

Understandably, the knowledge that Belmont blood was poisonous threw Alucard for a moment. Vampires and dhampir were supposed to be able to detect anything wrong with the blood they were about to consume. Trevor smelt clean.

“We are our own bait. We are supposed to smell good. Lure monsters in, let them have a sniff, and if worst came to worst, their last meal would be nice,” said Trevor. “We can't be turned. Not by a werewolf, not by a ghoul, and certainly not by a vampire.”

“That's impossible,” said Adrian. “All humans can be turned.”

“I suspect my family is not human,” said Trevor.

The realisation that Trevor would turn old and die, or perhaps even be mortally wounded in a fight, and Adrian could do nothing about it stunned him into silence.

In fact, nothing else was said as Trevor laid by Sypha’s good side and they slept until the sun was beginning to set.

***

This was a crisis.

Adrian did not have enough experience with children to be holding Sypha’s newborn child, wrapped in a fresh, beautifully embroidered blanket. Counting out the stitches, Adrian told himself to focus. It was a child. A little boy.

Although it was still too early to determine if it would stay this way or not, the babe had his mother’s hair and eyes, and his father’s pout. That pout would have all but the most wary wrapped around his little finger.

The baby gurgled, and Adrian flinched.

“I think you should take him back,” said Adrian.

“Trevor is fetching fresh blankets and I need to stand,” said Sypha. “You can hold Simon for a minute.”

She chuckled as Simon tangled his fingers in Adrian’s hair and pulled. A baby had marginal strength, and yet the tug was sharp and took Adrian by surprise to lean closer. Simon’s tiny hands wrapped around more hair as he squealed in delight.

“There you go,” said Sypha, now up and washing herself down. “Honestly, I don't know how you managed to deliver Simon and yet not know what to do once he was born.”

“I never had someone to practice with,” said Adrian.

He experimentally jiggled Simon in his arms, who cooed happily in response, trying to eat Adrian’s hair.

“No, don't do that,” Adrian muttered.

He coaxed the hair out.

“Even if it was only a theoretical training, I am glad you were here to help. I wouldn't trust anyone else,” said Sypha.

“The midwife did not inspire confidence. There was something wrong about her,” said Adrian. “Otherwise she could have stayed and I would have assisted instead.”

There were a number of things that irked Adrian about the woman from the next village over. First she had been rude, complaining of the distance she had to ride in the middle of the night with Trevor. Nothing they had offered was good enough for her to eat or drink, even though they had fresh bread that Adrian had made while waiting for Trevor to return. Then she had grabbed Sypha’s legs roughly, pushing them apart to observe.

Sypha had yelped at the sudden and rough treatment, and Trevor was marching the midwife back out the door in an instant. Given a few coins for her time, she was told to walk home as Sypha’s labour was starting and Sypha needed both of her men around.

An exhausting twelve hours later, and Adrian was ready to sleep on the floor if he had to.

“We should be wary of reprisal,” said Adrian. “No doubt she would have been offended that Trevor didn't even walk her home.”

Washed and clean, Sypha dressed in a fresh nightgown and held out her arms for Simon. Adrian gladly handed the babe over, being dragged into Sypha’s arms by the fact that Simon had a death grip on Adrian’s hair.

“What's going on?” asked Trevor as he came back with blankets.

“I’m stuck,” said Adrian.

“Your son has a fondness for Adrian’s hair,” Sypha informed Trevor.

“Who do you think he gets that from?” said Trevor.

“Both of you. You're both awful. It's like you've never seen hair before,” said Adrian.

“To be fair to Simon, he hadn't seen much hair at all in his life,” said Trevor.

“That's because he's a baby,” groaned Adrian. “You two have no excuse.”

“Maybe we just like it,” said Sypha, chuckling as Adrian tried to pull away again.

It took several minutes for Trevor to extract the soggy locks from Simon’s hands, mostly because Trevor was concerned about their delicacy.

“They're so small. He's so small,” said Trevor, repeating himself.

Adrian took to pinning his hair up after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately updates will be slow as I have less than a month to go until my thesis is due. Wish me luck!


End file.
